


Turnabout Is Fair Play

by RedOrchid



Series: Membership [5]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Partner sharing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Sex Club, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 09:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14161662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedOrchid/pseuds/RedOrchid
Summary: “Remember last time we were here, when you drove me completely crazy, and I promised I would get you back for that?” Alec asks, and Magnus thinks,oh, fuck.PLEASE NOTE: Threesome





	Turnabout Is Fair Play

**Author's Note:**

> Sex Club battle is going strong! If you haven't already, please go check out the parts in this series, written by the amazing @accal1a. Because they're awesome, yes?
> 
> Massive thank you to @la_muerta for the beta. <3

They’re having a late breakfast together up on the roof terrace of Magnus’ building, when Alec brings it up. Magnus has been expecting questions; the last time they went out to play together, Magnus introduced Alec to some of his friends—all of whom he’d slept with at some point in the past. Remembering the reaction when he told Alec his “number”, back when they first started dating, he steels himself. And then chastises himself, recalling just how quickly Alec put his initial reservations aside, once the initial shock wore off.

“So, I’ve been wondering about the other people who go to the same club we do,” Alec starts. “Are they—are we weird for going there together, instead of, um—”

“Playing with a different partner each time?” Magnus fills in. “Not in the least. Not everyone goes to clubs like that with their partners, that’s true. Or play exclusively with their partners when they do. There are quite a few people who are… open to suggestion, let’s say. Everyone has their own preferences.”

“Does that… apply to you? The being open for suggestion thing, I mean?” Alec asks, and there’s a slight flush in his cheeks that Magnus isn’t sure how to interpret. It looks like arousal, but it could easily come from embarrassment as well.

He figures simply facing the question head-on is the best way forward, and reaches over the small table between them, taking Alec’s hand in his.

“It has in the past. I’m normally quite flexible when it comes to partners. Before you started going with me, I hadn’t been to that particular club for a great many years. But whenever I’ve been, then yes, I’ve usually gone alone, or with a friend.”

“So the guys you introduced me to? Were they all—”

“People I’ve previously played with, yes.”

Alec nods, and Magnus watches the flush in his cheeks spread down his neck. Alec’s tongue comes out, quickly wetting his lips. When he looks back at Magnus, his eyes are noticeably darker than before.

“Would you—” Alec breaks off, swallowing before pulling up his courage to ask the question he’s clearly dying to ask. “Would you want to play with any of them again? Now that you and I are going there?”

Magnus brings his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a long drink while turning the question over in his mind. From most other people he’s dated, he would assume such a question to be either a trap to start a fight, or a veiled request for validation. Meeting Alexander’s eyes, he sees neither option reflected there. Alec is watching him with genuine interest, and not a small amount of intrigue.

It suddenly dawns on him that perhaps Alec is asking a different question all together.

“Only if that’s something you’d want as well,” he settles on, hoping he isn’t reading the situation wrong. “When we first started going to the club, I assumed partner sharing wasn’t something you’d be interested it. But the way you look at other people there, sometimes—and the fact that you’re asking me these questions now—makes me wonder if I got it wrong?”

Alec’s jaw drops—whatever answer he was expecting, the one Magnus gave him clearly wasn’t it. Magnus watches how the surprise settles, and then how the tell-tale signs that Alec is getting turned on slowly rise up to take its place.

“I didn’t mean to look,” Alec replies. His tone is surprised, rather than guilty, however, which Magnus takes as a good sign. “I, um, I guess I haven’t thought about it?”

As soon as he says it, he looks exasperated with himself. Magnus strategically lifts his cup back to his lips, biting down on his lower lip to keep down the smile that threatens to spread on his face. He’s definitely not reading things wrong.

“Sorry, no, that isn’t true; I definitely have thought about it,” Alec says. “Um. A lot, actually.”

Magnus valiantly pushes down his smirk, but can’t quite stop himself from raising a teasing eyebrow in Alec’s direction. “Has anyone in particular caught your eye?”

Even as he asks, his mind starts spinning with the new range of possibilities this conversation could open for them. He’s deeply monogamous when it comes to his heart—always has been, which has been a curse more often than a blessing over the years—but the kind of play that goes on at the club is different, and just the idea of taking Alec there and letting him sample every person and experience that strikes his fancy—

It’s a heady thought.   

For a long while, he and Alec simply look at each other, their joined hands the only point of physical contact. For every minute that passes, anticipation builds higher in Magnus’ gut, a thousand ideas of what they could do together—what Alec might want to try with Magnus at his side, watching him—flashing through his mind.

Finally, Alec wets his lips again, then clears his throat.

“Your vampire friend, Tarquin. Do you know if he’ll be at the club again?”

If Magnus is surprised by his choice, he doesn’t show it. Instead, the corner of his mouth turns into a small, knowing smile.

“I’ll call him and make sure of it.”

***

Magnus feels excitement buzz beneath his skin as they make their way to the club, a couple of nights later. Even with the memory of each previous time etched into his mind, he can’t quite believe how lucky he is. He’s frequented similar clubs in all parts of the world over the centuries—mostly by himself, sometimes with friends or the occasional lover. He hasn’t been with a  _ partner _ in over two centuries, and the fact that Alec wants this too—that Magnus can feel the same buzzing excitement coming from him, as well—it makes the whole experience very different from what Magnus is used to: heady and intoxicating in a way few things are for him after centuries of living.

They walk over to the bar, giving the bartender their orders and making small talk as they wait for the drinks to arrive. Magnus watches Alec as they talk, carefully noting the way his hands fidget at his sides, the slight flush in his cheeks and on his neck. His eyes flicker down to the front of Alec’s pants, and he has to stop himself from reaching out and running the back of his fingers against the hardness he sees there. Alec’s obvious arousal makes his own grow stronger; these minutes before they being to play are some of his most cherished—as he allows anticipation to build to an almost painful ache within his body.

It doesn’t take long before he spots a familiar face in the crowd. He smiles as Tarquin makes his way over, a quiet predatory quality to his walk that Magnus has always found extremely attractive. He holds out his hand for Magnus to shake, and then does the same for Alec.

“Magnus, Alec. Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Alec replies, his voice coming out a little bit breathless. Magnus watches his throat as he swallows, the way Alec’s tongue slips out briefly to wet his lips.

Tonight is going to be  _ amazing _ .

“Would you like to join us for a drink?” Magnus asks, gesturing for the bartender. “You and Alexander seemed absolutely absorbed in the conversation you were having last time; I thought, perhaps, that you might like to pick it back up?”

Tarquin smiles, dark and promising, and Magnus has a brief flash of memory of a night spent in a club similar to this one, some decades earlier, when the two of them happened to be in the same place, at the same time. He doesn’t think that Alec is going to want to have another man fuck him—not his first time out of the gate—but from experience, he knows that Tarquin has many, many other qualities, among them a positively sinful mouth.

He’s so caught up in picturing different scenarios, weighing the pros and cons of each to decide what Alec will like best, that what happens next takes him fully by surprise.

“I was thinking more that maybe the two of you would like a chance to properly catch up,” Alec says. “I’m sure you have a lot to discuss, after—?”

“Thirty years, give or take,” Tarquin replies, with a raised eyebrow in Magnus’ direction that tells Magnus that he is both surprised and intrigued by this turn of events.

“Thirty years,” Alec repeats, holding up his drink in a proposed toast in front of them. “Well then, shall we?” He slides his left hand around Magnus’ waist, the tips of his fingers casually dipping beneath the top edge of Magnus’ pants, and Magnus finds himself momentarily speechless.

Alec gives him a small wink and raises his glass to his lips, taking a long, slow drink.

“ _ Revenge _ ,” he mouths quietly after he lowers it again, and realisation hits Magnus like a heatwave.

Forget amazing; tonight is going to be downright unforgettable.

“I would never turn down the opportunity to catch up with an old friend,” he replies, smiling up at Alec and slipping his own hand down to brush over the swell of Alec’s ass. His arousal spikes when Alec visibly loses his breath for a moment. “Tarquin, would you do us the honour of choosing the décor?”

Tarquin downs the shot of deep red liquid that the bartender put in front of him and leads the way to one of the alcoves opposite the bar. He stops just short of it, thinking for a moment, and then strides forward, the air around the alcove beginning to shimmer as he goes.

When the magic settles, Magnus can’t help but smile. Tarquin has chosen very well: a wide futon in the centre—easily big enough for three—dominates the space; the floor is a thick, lush carpet, and the walls are a warm, panelled oak. It’s luxurious and elegant without being intimidatingly expensive-looking, reminding Magnus of his loft, but without being similar enough that it feels like a space that should only be his and Alec’s.

“It’s beautiful,” Alec notes, echoing Magnus’ own thoughts. He turns to Magnus, leaning in to place an almost chaste kiss beneath his ear. “You’re overdressed.”

“Oh?” Magnus replies, feeling another spike of heat shoot through him as Alec mouths his way across his neck, to his throat.

“Mhm,” Alec confirms, moving a little lower still, and opening his lips against Magnus’ collarbone, letting a hint of teeth graze the skin. He pops open the first button on Magnus’ shirt, then one more, then… nothing. “Tarquin, why don’t you help me with that?” Alec says.

Magnus’s head falls back, a moan breaking from his throat. Alec guides him over to the futon, stopping right as the back of Magnus’ legs hit the edge. He leans in, taking Magnus’ lips in a short, searing kiss, and then pulls back, stepping away.

Magnus keeps his eyes closed, carefully regulating his breathing until his heart stops beating quite so fast in his chest. Another pair of hands take over where Alec’s left off, the touch noticeably cooler than what Magnus has grown used to.

“Slower,” Alec says, from somewhere to Magnus’ right, and the way his voice has gone deep and affected sends little tendrils of heat dancing all over Magnus’ skin.

Tarquin does as told, taking his time teasing every one of the remaining buttons out of their buttonholes until Magnus’ shirt is hanging uselessly from his shoulders, his chest on display beneath two sets of hungry eyes.

“Mmm, I remember this,” Tarquin says, a cool hand causing shivers to run up Magnus’ spine as his shirt is taken off him. “You were sensitive here, I think?” he continues, and Magnus shivers again as talented fingers run down his abs, finding the strip of skin right above the waistline of his pants that never fail to draw a moan from him.

“Another inch further down,” Alec says, and Magnus watches in fascination as he steps in close and places his own hand on top of Tarquin’s, guiding it down so that the other man’s fingers are stroking a path just beneath the fabric of the waistband.

“We should get these off you,” Alec continues, another couple of kisses landing on Magnus’ neck, as his belt is unceremoniously undone, along with the button of his pants. Alec’s hand goes to his zipper after that, pulling it down half an inch, then stopping, then another half an inch, so slowly that Magnus is sure he’s going to go out of his mind. “Why don’t you lie down? Get yourself comfortable?”

Magnus lets himself be pushed down onto his back on the futon, his breathing climbing back towards quick and shallow as he feels Tarquin take off his shoes and socks, and then pull his pants down his legs so slowly that Magnus is sure it qualifies as torture in at least a dozen countries. He’s suddenly pathetically grateful for his choice to forego underwear for tonight’s events, a groan breaking from his throat when his cock springs free of its confines.

Alec moves to sit behind him, kneeling on the futon with Magnus’ head cradled protectively between his legs.

Magnus tilts his head back, straining his neck for more contact.

“This okay?” Alec asks him quietly, his hands burying themselves in Magnus’ hair and rubbing little circles against his scalp.

Magnus moans again, pleasure washing through him as Tarquin gets to his knees between his legs and starts running his hands up and down his thighs. “Most definitely. You?”

Alec chuckles, and when he next speaks, there’s a soft edge to his voice that Magnus’ loves. It’s the voice Alec uses when he asks if Magnus wants coffee after kissing him good morning, deep and smooth and filled with warmth in a way that makes Magnus’ heart ache with how happy he feels.

“I’m good,” he promises, then leans down and presses a slow, amazing kiss to Magnus’ lips, upside down. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since we had our talk.”

“Oh? Thinking about what, exactly?”

“Of how good I want to make you feel,” Alec replies, leaning in to kiss him again. “You always make me feel so incredible, especially here. I want to do the same.”

“You already do,” Magnus says quickly, hearing his breath hitch as Alec tugs carefully on his hair.

Alec chuckles again, and when Magnus meets his eye, there’s a definite glint of mischief there.

“Then just imagine what I can do, now that I have help,” he says, causing Magnus’ brain to temporarily white out. “Tarquin, would you like to go first?”

“I would love to,” Tarquin’s amused voice comes from down by Magnus’ feet. “Where would you like me to start?”

Alec’s fingers still in his hair, and Magnus hears the smallest of catches in his breath. It ramps up the anticipation in the room another notch, making his cock twitch.

“Your mouth,” Alec decides, his fingers tightening in Magnus’ hair as Magnus lets out a groan of appreciation at the idea. “Use your mouth.”

“Gladly.”

He starts out slow, his mouth ghosting over the sensitive skin on the inside of Magnus’ thighs, until he has Magnus panting beneath him. His fangs come out to play at around the same time as Magnus’ hips start to strain against the hands holding him in place, and Magnus curses himself for that night, almost a century ago, when a Downworld revel segued into an orgy at the then-DuMort, and every vampire in New York—present company included—learned just how uninhibited the High Warlock of Brooklyn could get with someone’s face between his legs. 

A fang grazes the skin at the very top of his thigh, adding pinpricks of pain to the heavy pleasure pooling in his groin. He strains against the hold again, arching his back and pushing himself more firmly into Alec, crying out when it makes Alec tug harder on his hair. He opens his eyes, finding Alec’s just as Tarquin finally takes him into his mouth and starts working his cock with his lips and tongue. What he sees is makes a loud moan travel up his throat; Alec’s hazel eyes are nearly black with desire, his face flushed, his bottom lip red and slightly swollen from Alec biting down on it. Tarquin moves one of his hands between his legs, tugging lightly at Magnus’ balls, and Magnus feels himself hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly quickly. The combination of a talented mouth on him, and the hungry look on Alec’s face makes everything incredibly intense. He wants to pull Alec down, into the kind of kiss that makes Magnus feel like he’s looking right into the sun—blinding, overwhelming, and like someone is cracking his heart wide open and filling him to the brim with light.

“Remember last time, when you drove me completely crazy, and I promised I would get you back for that?” Alec asks, and Magnus thinks,  _ oh, fuck _ .

_ Revenge _ .

There’s a flash of bright blue, and a number of people across the room cry out in surprise. Magnus groans, and curls his hands into tight fists at his sides, pulling his magic back in under control.

“I really love your eyes,” Alec murmurs, one hand leaving Magnus’ hair to caress the line of his jaw, his cheek, the curve of his mouth, and Magnus realises that he’s lost control of his glamour as well.

“ _ Alexander _ ,” is all he manages in reply. His voice sounds breathless, desperate, even. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore—except that he wants  _ everything _ .

“I want you to make him come,” Alec tells Tarquin, and Magnus groans, his back arching. 

“I want him to make you come,” Alec repeats, his eyes latching back on Magnus’ now. “It’s my turn to call the shots, and what  _ I _ want, is for him to pull off, right when it happens, and have you come all over your stomach. And then I want you to watch me as I as use your come to get myself off.”

Magnus’ eyes roll back in his head.  _ Fuck _ . The image of Alec jerking himself off beside him, his hand and cock wet with Magnus’ own release pushes him right up to the edge. He can’t keep his hips still anymore; he needs to thrust, needs to  _ fuck _ , needs to chase the pleasure flooding his system—because the positively glazed look in Alec’s eyes as he watches Magnus’ cock slide in and out between Tarquin’s lips has just turned everything up to eleven. 

“When you’ve finished him off, get on top of him” he hears Alec tell Tarquin hoarsely. “I want Magnus to jerk you off.”

Magnus hears himself make a choked-off sound through the thick fog of pleasure forming around him. He reaches for Alec, wants him close, wants to ground himself in the reality of his touch, even as his boyfriend leans forward and adds his own hands to Magnus’ hips, holding him down and perfectly still for Tarquin’s mouth to bring him over the edge.

_ Please kiss me _ , Magnus tries to say. Except the words don’t want to form—his body is too overwhelmed by the imminent pleasure, too focused on drawing air into his lungs to manage tasks as trivial as  _ talking _ . By some miracle that Magnus doesn’t let himself think about right now—can’t handle the implications of it when the way Alec’s directing the scene is already making Magnus’ heart too full with love for him—Alec picks up on it, anyway. He shifts his weight, positioning himself at Magnus’ side instead, to more easily read the expression on his face.

“Still okay?” Alec asks. His right hand moves up to Magnus’ chest, then over his throat and jaw, until he’s cradling Magnus’ face in the palm of his hand.

Magnus manages a nod. The warmth of Alec’s palm is helping him pull back a fraction from where he’s balancing on the edge. He brings his own hand up, covering Alec’s and weaving their fingers tightly together. 

“What do you need?” Alec asks.

_ You _ , Magnus’ feverish mind supplies, helplessly.  _ Always you _ .

He tugs at Alexander’s hand, pulling him down half on top of himself, moaning loudly in relief when Alec’s weight settles against him, a warm, solid presence all along the side of his body.

“I love seeing you lost in pleasure like this,” Alec observes, and the undertone of honest wonder in his voice sends Magnus’ heart for another spin. “I love causing it, too—I mean, obviously, I do—but this is just… Your  _ face _ ,” he says, letting his thumb stroke a path over Magnus’ cheek. “I can see  _ everything _ .”

Magnus feels his mouth open in a broken moan, feels his head tilt back and his back arch as the pleasure begins to crest. Alec immediately moves in closer, bringing their faces together so that they’re breathing the same air, desperately panting for it between lips that are only an inch away from touching.

“Are you going to come for me?” Alec asks, reaching down and wrapping his hand around Magnus’ aching cock, right as Tarquin pulls off with his mouth and does the same. “Are you going to come for  _ us _ ?”

Magnus surges up toward him, taking Alec’s mouth in a harsh kiss as the pleasure pulls him under. He muffles the sounds he makes against Alec’s lips as two hands milk his orgasm from his body, making him spill over his own stomach in hot, wet spurts, and leaving him weak and trembling in the aftermath.

He’s still floating in the veritable flood of endorphins, when he feels a second weight settle against his other side, a strong thigh slotting in perfectly between his.

“Make him come, Magnus,” Alec tells him, in between pressing soothing kisses to Magnus’ neck. He lets go of Magnus’ spent dick for a moment to run his fingers through the mess Magnus made on his stomach, and then smiles down at him. “Turnabout is fair play.”

Magnus wants to protest that nothing about what they’re doing to him could, by any stretch of imagination, ever be described as “fair”, but then Alec grabs his hand and brings it to Tarquin’s rock hard cock, and, well, Magnus’ brain can only handle so much.

And then, just when Magnus thought that Alec couldn’t possibly make things any hotter, Alec grabs his other hand, running it through the slickness on Magnus’ stomach and guiding it down between his own legs.

“I changed my mind,” he murmurs into the space between their lips. “I want you to bring us both off. At the same time.” He thrusts into Magnus’ grip, a needy whine escaping from the back of his throat, urging Magnus to start moving.

Magnus is no stranger to intimacy that involves more than two people; he’s attended Downworld orgies that lasted for days, with numerous people moving into and away from his touch in a continuous haze of mind-numbing pleasure. Before meeting Alexander, he thought he’d seen everything, _done_ _everything_.

Turns out he was wrong. So very, very delightfully wrong.

Alec’s hand wraps back around his spent cock, working it in slow, even pulls that set Magnus’ already abused nerve endings on fire. He’s too sensitive for the kind of stimulus Alec’s giving him, and yet, asking him to stop is the furthest thing from his mind.

He throws his head back, moaning brokenly as he tightens his hold on the cock in either hand, trying to pull himself back together enough to make it good, to bring his partners off. He knows what Alec likes—the little twists of Magnus’ wrist right as he moves over the ridge beneath the crown, which never fail to bring him right up to the edge—but Tarquin is more of an unknown entity, requiring experimentation and attention to detail for Magnus to remember exactly what makes him tick, and Magnus is honestly not sure he’s able to manage that right now.

Alec buries his face in his neck, muffling a shout as he spills over Magnus’ fingers, painting his lower belly and the top of his thigh with his release. His right hand tightens around Magnus’ cock as he comes, sending a wave of pain-tinted pleasure rushing up the length of Magnus’ spine.

Magnus grits his teeth and forces himself to ignore it, no matter how much his body is telling him to grab Alec’s hand and push it lower, begging him to fill him up with his fingers, fuck him relentlessly until he’s ready to come again. He tightens his hand on Tarquin’s cock, moves it faster, and adds the barest hint of nails on every other stroke.

It works beautifully. Within minutes, he has Tarquin panting above him, his hips fucking desperately into his hand. Alec, meanwhile, has collapsed against his side, curled up against him and resting his head on Magnus’ shoulder as he watches with rapt attention.

He reaches out, a look of fascination on his face, as though he can’t quite help himself, and touches the very tip of Tarquin’s cock. Tarquin lets out a short, desperate groan, and Magnus sees his fangs drop for a moment, before he gets himself back under control.

It’s quick work to push him the rest of the way after that, and moments later, Magnus feels hot liquid splash onto his skin for the third time that night. He and Alec work Tarquin through the aftershocks together, Alec’s hand joining his and matching him stroke for stroke as Tarquin comes apart in front of them.

Once it’s over, Tarquin pushes himself back, standing away from the futon and gesturing towards the bar as he gets his clothes back in order.

“Magnus, always a pleasure,” he says, taking the shot glass that materialises on a small table next to him and saluting Magnus before throwing it back. “Alec, it was  _ very _ nice meeting you. Feel free to call again, if you ever want to meet back up.”

“Will do,” Alec replies, a lazy smile playing on his face. He’s flushed all over, hair and clothes—which he’s still mostly wearing—an absolute mess.

Magnus doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more beautiful. He swallows thickly, then turns to the side to better move into Alec’s embrace.

“You okay?” Alec asks, pressing a soft kiss against the base of his throat. “I mean, was this okay? Did you like it?”

Magnus nods and closes his eyes, tilting Alec’s chin up so that their lips brush. “It was wonderful,” he replies honestly, his heart doing another little flip when Alec’s smile widens—as Alec pulls him closer and kisses him again.

“I was worried about being able to hold my own in a scene like that,” he admits, smile turning bashful. “I mean, sex is definitely an area where immortality quickly becomes intimidating.”

Magnus nods. “I can see that.”

“I should just stop worrying, though,” Alec continues. “Every time I do, being with you proves me wrong. I like that. How we keep surprising each other.”

His voice is warm, just like every other part of him. Like his heart, which keeps defying Magnus’ expectations at every turn.

“Yes,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss Alexander again, “I very much like that too.”

END

**Author's Note:**

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